Nearing the club’s entrance, cars are suddenly everywhere! They belong to people trying to steal MY exercise bike!

After entering the gates, I hit the gas and the car goes airborne at the first speed bump. Having masterfully turned the steering wheel hard-right in mid-flight, the car screeches to a smoking, rubber-burning stop upon touchdown, and landing sideways across three parking spots.

5:30 Club Ambassador Monique opens the door to prevent another fatal stampede – like holiday shopping at Wal-Mart.

Inside, I immediately snatch two white towels from the nicely stacked double cloth columns on the counter and zip upstairs – two steps at a time. My weekend conditioning at the Santa Barbara City College stadium pays off right now.

Inside the Spinning Room is sheer pandemonium. The scene is like kids playing musical chairs – running around and screaming in that one horrific moment when you realize maybe “too many people, not enough chairs.”

Seven people race towards MY bike by the window, only I can’t get there due to the room’s funky layout and zillion people.

My only hope is tossing a towel from afar. If it lands on the handlebars – I’m good. If not, I’m toast. We’ll see if this practice pays off, too.

Once launched, the towel appears to travel in “slo-mo” through the air. It takes forever! But, mercifully, lands on target, just as someone was about to claim MY bike.

I’M IN! HAPPY DANCE TIME!!

With the pressure off, it’s time to casually walk downstairs with that curt, smug look on my face and change into sleek bike racing gear. I’m back upstairs in six minutes.

Pete next cools us down, cracks some jokes and leads light stretches. The pain gradually exits my body – although at a slower rate than when it entered.

Before leaving, he reminds us that we are required by law, the entire insurance industry and club policy to wipe all DNA off our bikes with the special chemically-treated towelettes found in the back of the room.